State of Mind
by Draconic
Summary: Richard decides it's time for a rematch with Therese, naturally with her potential dinner plans on the line. However, something onboard the Grandcypher isn't right. It isn't right at all…


**Author's Note: This story shifts genres about halfway through. I was very surprised by the direction this story went after that point to be honest. I didn't think I could get it back to the fun, lighthearted jaunt that part of it always needed to be.**

* * *

 **State of Mind**

She was asleep when it happened.

It was, perhaps the only reason it was even possible, or maybe she had simply overestimated herself, in her arrogance.

But _how_ it happened was irrelevant. It didn't matter how, or why, or what measures should have been taken. The only matter of consequence was that _it_ was awake at last. _It_ had gathered enough strength to overpower her, and it relished its freedom…

* * *

It was finally time.

Within the past twenty-four hours, he had been accosted by goblins, lost more rupies than he could count by losing one hundred percent of his poker games, had his wallet stolen—by a monster no less, and gotten beaten to hell and back before being curbstomped by a very scary lady due to a case of mistaken identity. A case of mistaken identity that could have been prevented but for the fact that his ID was in his wallet. And on his way back to the Grandcypher, he had taken a hoof to the groin by a killer camel.

Richard's bad luck had come to a head. It could always get worse, but on the other hand, he figured that if there was ever a bet he wanted to make that would require some really _good_ luck, now was the best time to go for it.

So tonight, he was going to do what he'd set out to do so many months ago.

He knocked on the door to one of the many cabins aboard the Grandcypher.

"Um… I-I-I-I'm sorry! Who's there?" came the soft and supremely nervous voice from within.

"Therese? Good, you're in. It's, uh, it's me, Richard."

"Oh…" replied the duelist on the other side of the door. Her disappointment wasn't quite the derision she had expressed the last time he'd tried to ask her out, but it was still there.

"I was wondering if I could take you up on your offer again. I know it wasn't a 'try again,' sort of deal, but I have a good feeling about tonight. Would you still be up for a rematch?"

There were a few shuffling noises and then the door opened, creaking on its hinges.

"I… I guess I could," she said after some hesitation. "I know I'll win though, s-s-so, um, I d-don't see this working out for you."

"Wait, really? Also hold on a minute, do you think that I haven't gotten any stronger since we last fought?"

"It's not that. It's just… I know you've gotten a bit stronger, but I've gotten stronger too. Y-You're going to get hurt if we fight."

Richard flashed a winning smile at her.

"I'm counting on it."

"Are you sure?" she really didn't want to do this at all did she? He'd make it up to her once he won though.

"Name your time and place then."

"Hm? W-Why me?"

"Just to make sure we both know we're fighting on equal footing. If I chose, it'd be possible that my 'good feeling' is just me having rigged our playing field."

"Um… th-that's a good point. In that case… t-twenty minutes f-from now? On the deck? Th-th-th-th-that's okay, right?"

"Whenever you're ready," he agreed, "I'll wait down the hall."

Therese nodded and shut her door again.

"Yessss!" he gave an excited hiss as he practically skipped down the narrow passage. Therese joined him in short order and they arrived on deck to find it empty, most of the other crew members having finished anything they were doing and gone to mind their own business.

"Oh, well, that's nice. No one to get in the way," Therese said, her personality evidently having shifted while Richard was looking around, trying to think up a strategic way to use the familiar territory. "Ready when you are, loverboy," she smirked, the runes on her gloves starting to glow as she pulled her Tanzanite Sword from the scabbard in her coat. "So, same conditions as at the Jewel Resort. We just fight until one of us can't anymore. I'll just assume you're fine with that."

Before he could answer, she had lowered herself into a combat stance, and grinned at him much like a predator grinning at cornered prey.

"Don't worry Richard, you know what you're doing," he whispered to himself. "You're going to be fine, she just doesn't know it yet."

He drew his pistol and took aim.

She charged first.

* * *

It stalked the halls of the airship, looking for its natural prey, but not finding anything. Those within their rooms should have been grateful that the creature didn't seem interested in opening doors.

However, it did sense something coming from above. It hissed gleefully. It wouldn't be much longer now.

* * *

Therese kicked off the wall and landed behind him yet again

"Your entire strategy is useless!" she snickered. "I have to make an effort to even come up with a possible reason for why you thought you could beat me! You can't fight me unless you stay a safe distance away from me, but I can close any gap you make effortlessly! And that doesn't even cover my runic abilities."

Richard rolled his eyes. She was completely right, but the ridicule he'd get from her if he told her he was going to rely entirely on karma wasn't something he thought he could handle. It's not like he could help it—his luck was his only skill!

"This is getting sad," she rolled her eyes, slashing at him while performing elegant flourishes with the brilliant blue sword.

He managed to get back far enough to take a clear shot but only could make one. Another second of aiming and his pistol would have been bisected.

"I mean it, just give up. Spare yourself from some physical and emotional pain," she rested her sword against the deck and smirked.

"Not likely," he fired twice more but neither was a clean hit.

"Have it your way then," Therese shrugged. "This is gonna hurt!"

She jumped high into the air and fell upon Richard, knocking him flat on his back her sword at his throat.

"And that's the match. No date," she said smirking down at him.

"I don't think we're done quite yet actually."

She was going to tell him off for begging when she felt something pressed up against her chin. And she realized that in her haste to end the duel, she'd failed to pay attention to Richard's gun, which was now poised for a lethal strike as much as her sword.

"I think that's a draw," said Richard, smirking. His luck was holding. This could still work out.

"Yeah, yeah, fine," she stood up and took a few paces back along the deck, holding her Tanzanite Sword at hip level.

"Okay, fine, we'll go another round. But then you're getting out of my face."

"Provided that you win, of course. Otherwise, I'm buying you dinner."

She sighed, her off-the-court persona briefly showing itself as she fidgeted with the hem of her jacket with her free hand. This man was nothing if not persistent.

"Okay, I'm going to count down from three again. The match starts at the bottom of the countdown. You know the drill…"

Richard nodded, and was halfway through smirking at his good fortune, when he noticed something behind Therese. He was vaguely aware of her beginning her countdown, but he found himself focused on the object behind her.

"Three…"

Two glowing pink lines, trailing wisps of some ethereal substance. Almost like the eyes of a primal beast—except one was above the other—just to the left of her head.

"Two…"

They weren't the only thing there either, and he was incredibly startled to see what was accompanying them.

"One…"

"Therese, I really think you should turn around, quick!"

"If you really think you're going to get me with _that_ trick, you're—"

 _'It's the least believable trick in the book! Why would I even consider saying it if I wasn't serious?!'_ he wanted to shout, but there wasn't nearly enough time for that. Instead he rushed Therese head on.

"Hey! What the hell do you think you're—?!"

Richard closed the gap completely, reached over Therese's shoulder and fired.

The sword fell short as its wielder was knocked back. It only grazed the back of her neck instead of removing her head entirely. Therese shuddered more out of shock than from the pain. She spun around unsteadily, and found herself looking at half of a person's face. The other half had an eerily glowing mask affixed to it. There was nothing holding it in place. It was just… there. Two narrow markings glowed like a pair of eyes, but it was the human side of the woman's face that made their blood run cold.

"R-Rosamia?"

If Rosamia heard her, she didn't answer. But judging purely by appearances, she probably hadn't. Her eyes were open, or at least the visible one was, but it had rolled back into her head, and an empty sclera stared back at the duelist. And in the next moment, it flashed magenta, the same color of the mask's 'eyes,' and she let out a heavy breath before assuming a combat stance. Her breathing was ragged and uneven and a narrow trail of spittle ran down her chin from the corner of her mouth.

"Rosamia, are you alright?" Richard asked.

"Rosamia is not here," came a voice much like Rosamia's, but her limp jaw wasn't moving, and the modulated, guttural hiss most certainly didn't belong to the girl standing before them. "This is an empty puppet. And when it fulfills its purpose, it will die like all other Skydwellers."

"Yeah, I'm gonna have to cancel, I've got things to do," said Richard.

"I… I um…"

"Seriously, Therese?! _Now?!_ " Richard groaned. The one time he actually needed her to be crazy and violent and she—

" 'Now,' what? What's going on? Has being confused been outlawed?" she returned scathingly, not taking her eyes off the other swordswoman for a moment.

"Beats me. And sorry, I thought you had switched back for a moment."

"Switched back? Switched with what?"

"Absurd. We shall put an end to this charade."

Rosamia's sword rose to throat level and a storm of glowing talismans formed a tunnel around the three of them, forcing Richard and Therese into a confined space. The sword glowed for only a moment. That was the only warning before a ray of light flecked with bloody red energy erupted from the tip of the blade. There was nowhere to run. So Richard acted without thinking. He jumped on top of Therese. He didn't know how much he'd be able to shield her, but he suspected this probably wouldn't kill him. And however much this hurt, he knew that he'd be able to cash in the karma.

He just didn't expect it to hurt _so much_. He didn't even realize he was screaming until he saw Therese's panicked expression.

"Richard! Richard, stop! Get ahold of yourself!"

He couldn't understand what she was saying. He just felt something burning against his back and heard a shrill ringing in his ears.

"Richard, this isn't funny!"

That he managed to catch, and he forced himself to lower his voice to a pained hiss.

"But you're… okay, right?"

"Y-yeah. I-I mean you took most of the hit…"

"Well, whoever said chivalry is dead, I'm gonna break their teeth," he groaned.

Therese carefully pushed him aside, and leaped to her feet the moment she

was free of the dead weight, ignoring the pained hiss from her impromptu defender.

She thrust forward with the Tanzanite Sword, meeting her crazed, unconscious opponent blow for blow. She quickly found herself running short of breath. Rosamia was _fast_. She shook her head, forcing herself to focus. This was just like any other duel. The stakes were almost assuredly higher, but that meant nothing. Slowly but steadily, the talismans that were restricting her movement fluttered to the ground before swooping back toward their controller, laying themselves at her feet in a series of concentric circles.

 _Focus on what comes next. Two steps to the right, one cut in the opposite direction, thrust forward—cancel!—feint left, spin right… why are no openings presenting themselves?! Sonofa—_

She yelped as Rosamia's heirloom sword pierced through her left shoulder, and she forced herself to tug back before whatever was in control had the wherewithal to sever her entire arm. She tried not to scream as the rapier was torn from the wound the same way it came in, and failed.

There was a gunshot, and she saw Richard propping himself up on one elbow out of the corner of her eye. The bullet connected, but it was a glancing blow, and Rosamia kept coming. Therese forced herself to breathe, feeling almost as though she had somehow forgotten. She could barely catch her breath for a damn _second_ before the rapier toting menace made to stab her again!

Come to think of it, where the hell was the rest of the crew?! Shouldn't _someone_ have heard the fight by now?!

Lightning crackled along the length of the Thunder Rapier and Therese almost dodged right into the line of fire as the electrical surge flew toward Richard, who decided he really didn't want to take another hit, and barely managed to roll to the side in time to avoid being struck. However, he'd done what he'd intended, and given Therese enough time to catch a second wind, and she danced back in front of the other woman.

The two 'eyes' on the right side of Rosamia's face glowed furiously as she switched targets again, and she charged forward, making to skewer Therese, but she parried the blow masterfully, catching the sword on one of the jagged edges of her own, and twisting it to the side before thrusting her arm down toward the possessed fighter's legs. The rune on the back of her glove glowed an electric blue, the only warning before sparks erupted from her fingertips and lengthened into complete arcs of lightning. Rosamia jumped back, but Therese was a professional, and she hadn't been aiming for the spot she was looking at.

The electrical current swept upwards to explode directly into the mask's lower eye.

An inhuman roar tore its way out of Rosamia's throat, and for a moment, her visible eye was looking straight at Therese, bloodshot, trembling in horror. Whether she knew what had just happened, and which part of it was the one that frightened her most was anyone's guess. If she had even woken up at all. The mask stopped glowing, and her right hand stiffly rose to her face, seemingly not even a conscious gesture. The mask fell to rest in her palm, and she collapsed, gagging, her breathing irregular. Therese did the same moments later.

She was looking forward to getting a few minutes of catch her breath for real before going to bed and not getting up for the next twelve hours for any reason short of Percival offering to perform a full-eye-contact-barbecue for her. And then she heard something, and the entire world turned blood red.

Applause…

Someone was _clapping_.

Someone wearing silk gloves gloves if the sound was anything to go by, and even without that damning clue, there was only one sentient dirtbag low enough to put on a show of applause after someone had attempted to murder two people. She tilted her head to the side just to be absolutely sure, but she realized she shouldn't have had to. It was exactly the kind of thing _he_ would do.

On the plus side, now it made sense why no one came to help. It only made her that much angrier.

" _Bravo!_ Bravo, I simply _can't_ help but applaud! That was a most invigorating performance!"

" _You…! Wait…_ Performance…?! _Performance?!_ " she roared despite her exhaustion, "What kind of obscene delusions are you harboring for _any of that_ to look at all like sport?!"

"Oh, do put your mind at ease. I'd have intervened if events began to look bleak, but I simply couldn't help myself."

Therese swore she felt the blood vessels in her head bursting en masse.

" _Intervene?!_ I'd sooner shank myself than allow _you_ to rescue me, Chat Noir!" she spat the Phantom Thief's name from her mouth as though it were rancid milk. Then she spat on his shoes, marring their perfectly shined finish.

"Do calm yourself," he held up a hand, as though he'd only been responsible for a minor inconvenience, and oh, all she wanted this holiday season was to throw him and his greasy, greasy hair off the edge of the Grandcypher.

"I saw the girl walking out here as though possessed—my, it would be _so thrilling_ if that was indeed the case—and as I knew you were out here, I thought to myself, 'why not set the stage for a nice exhibition match between my favorite duelist as this deadly soldier!' I am _so_ pleased with myself at predicting the quality of your showing, as usual."

"I will rip your guts out through your mouth, you pompous little barfbag! If I didn't die, two other people still could have! They'll be lucky if they both pull through without having to stay benched for a month!"

"But they'll both probably be fine. Now, shall we—"

"Hey, pretty boy," someone's voice came from behind the black cat who turned around just enough for another gloved hand to catch his shoulder and twist him around. "I left some eggs in the kitchen. Go suck 'em!"

The thief found himself lifted up by the collar, and Therese thought she heard something expensive tearing. She caught a glimpse of Richard's face as he punched Chat Noir with all his might, which wasn't much, but still enough to make the scumbag squeal like a the pig he was. And Richard did _not_ look look happy. "I could have freaking _died_ , you craptacular bastard!" He lowered Chat Noir to the deck, and Therese, still too exhausted to move, couldn't remember having ever felt so disappointed in years.

"Hold on, lemme adjust your asshat," Richard snapped, abruptly grabbing the other man's silk top hat, and yanking down on it, forcing his head to connect with his knee. Chat Noir finally managed to recoil, but only managed to take a single step before the same knee came back up and connected with his groin. He squawked and collapsed in a heap, clutching at his junk and looking so profoundly undignified that Therese couldn't help but giggle.

Despite everything that had just happened, for some reason, she found it all incredibly arousing.

"You okay there?" Richard asked, crouching down next to her.

"I… Um… I— I couldn't possibly— uhh… towel?"

"You've completely lost me, and I'm going to take that as a no." He slipped one arm underneath her own, and the other beneath her knees, and lifted her off the deck. "Come on, up we go. I'll get you back to your room and De La Fille can handle it from there. I guess today just wasn't my day after all."

"Umm, I… I w-wouldn't say that."

"Wait, what?"

"Just one thing… D-Do you th-think you could pick me up…one more time?"

"You've lost me again."

The reason she had asked was because she realized she was just above Chat Noir's back, and in the time Richard stopped moving, despite the pain she was in, she managed to roll out of his arms, and crash down on top of her nemesis, who now seemed incapable of anything but whimpering. Which he did.

"Oww…" she whined, still managing a grin. "Worth it…"

When Richard saw the look in her eyes as she asked to be picked back up, his legs nearly gave out, but he forced himself to stand.

"That… that might have b-been both the s-sexiest, and m-most romantic thing I've ever seen anyone do… um… for anyone," she stammered out.

"What, dropping you?"

"And putting that lousy cat in his place."

Richard genuinely could not believe what he was hearing.

"R-Really?" he managed to ask, maneuvering her through the doorway to the lower decks and edging his way back toward her room through the cramped corridors.

"Ah—I'll pick the restaurant, you ch-choose a time," she said. There was genuine affection in her tone.

"Y-You got it!"

"L-Let's do the specifics t-tomorrow. I'm exhausted," she added, "Um… I think I can walk again though."

She was planted on her feet, and her legs gave out within seconds, but she caught herself against the wall. In this state she began stumbling her way back to her room. Considering how exhausted she was, she was surprised it didn't take longer.

"Good night, then," Richard wished her.

"Too late," she grinned back. She was about to step through the door, appeared to reconsider, then leaned back over to him and gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

At another time, were she in the proper frame of mind, she might have wanted to watch his reaction, but at the moment, she needed to get off of her feet before she collapsed like a rope bridge in a windstorm. So she just went inside, and left Richard standing outside in a daze.

"Score!" he pumped his fist in a hushed cheer, then overextended himself and lost his already tenuous balance.

On the other side of the door, Therese slipped out of her boots. Which was basically step one in a slightly longer process. She heard him stumble outside and found that she couldn't shake a single thought out of her head, as she stripped out of her sweaty, and slightly bloody clothes.

 _'Thank goodness he didn't notice what he'd done to me when he kicked Cat Bastard in the nuts.'_

She was _still_ feeling really turned on by that. Which, incidentally, was just one more reason why she needed a change of clothes.

How the heck did Richard get so attractive so fast?

* * *

Meanwhile up on the deck, Rosamia looked at the mask despairingly. Her gaze then shifted to Chat Noir.

"Earlier, I half heard you say that you saw me stalking through the halls in a trance. I hope for your sake that you have a very good reason for not trying to help."

The Phantom Thief felt a chill run up his spine. Tonight was most definitely not his night.

"I'll take your silence as a lack of an excuse. This is going to hurt later too, by the way."

* * *

 **Author's Note: Rosamia's mask is an object of trepidation for her. A source of great power that's constantly attempting to take control of her. However, when I watched her Fate Episodes, they're all about her looking for revenge on the Imperial researchers who bound it to her, and she never once suffers an 'attack' until her SSR's first Fate episode, at which point she almost immediately appears to subjugate it once and for all. She never once loses control, despite the apparently huge risk of that happening, (unless she's consistently losing control whenever you use her, and my inability to understand Japanese prevents me from realizing that). So I wanted to write something in which that happened.**

 **As for what I believe to be lurking in Rosamia's mask… well, I did have a theory. After looking at the second Graphic Archive, I noticed that Rosamia's mask shared a few similarities with a certain primal beast. Specifically, eye color and position, and facial shape. Go look through the biweekly Showdown bosses. You should pick up on it without having to examine them too hard. Once you do though, thoughts? Opinions? Counterarguments?**

 **Meanwhile, I started shipping Richard/Therese ever since What Makes the Sky Blue happened, and Festival of Falling Flame sealed the deal for me by giving me the context I needed.**

 **Neither of these stories seemed to be working out, so I mashed 'em together just to see what happened, and by golly, it actually started working! And I got to put Chat Noir in his place while I was at it. Please note that I don't actually approve of character bashing. This is an exception because you can't truly say you like Therese without considering Chat Noir a lousy scumbag. Doing otherwise would be a betrayal to the adorable duelist. This isn't like other character rivalries. Chat Noir's expressions of his adoration for Therese would be described as torment by literally anyone else. Fantastic design aside, he's an objectively nasty person.**

 **Overall, I'm not entirely satisfied with this piece, but I couldn't figure out how to make it perfect. As it's just fanfiction however, I decided to put it up now with the intention of perfecting it at a later date, if I find that I can, at least.**


End file.
